


As above, so below

by lemonwhiskers



Category: American Horror Story
Genre: Blood, Eventual Smut, F/M, Foul Language, Gore, Knifeplay, Satanic Activities, Sexual Themes, Violence, the whole nine yards baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-11-22 03:18:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20867330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonwhiskers/pseuds/lemonwhiskers
Summary: Michael Langdon is destined to become the harbinger of death and destruction to the world that has taken so much of him. Though, being the antichrist certainly does not come with a manual, Michael will soon find out that there is far more destined for him than he ever thought.





	1. Destined

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fanfic on AO3, so I apologize if the outline is wonky. 
> 
> Otherwise, please enjoy! Chapters will be updated as often as I can upload. And I promise the mystery woman will be revealed in the next chapter. ;)

“Hail Satan! Our savior has risen!” Madelyn spoke with utter certainty, joy, as she laid a palm on the ground below her in awe of what she had discovered about the homeless boy she’d brought home after service. Michael sighed in the dining chair, running a hand through those perfectly curled golden locks atop his head. He went to speak in an effort to cease the dramatic woman’s babbling, speaking in tongues to the dark Lord she so gleefully sold her life to, when the front door’s knob wiggled. Keys jangled from the other side just before it turned, creaking open to reveal a new face.

She had torn jeans, black ones that clung to her skin which peeked through each tear. A white, pocketed shirt that was stained with crimson, with a loose, darkened gray cardigan over; also soaked. Her black ankle height boots were scuffed and, like the rest of her, coated with fresh blood. Her hair, though, was nearly perfectly intact; long, chestnut locks pulled together in a low ponytail, two waved strands settled on either side of her made up, freckle kissed face. Her skin was pale but had the rosiest tint to it. In one hand she held a dark brown leather backpack, and in the other, a tarnished pocket knife, likely her weapon of choice. She looked as though she had stepped straight out of a horror film.

“What in the Hell happened to you?” 

This mystery woman flicked her hazel eyes to Madelyn on the floor crouched next to Michael, and the corner of her busted lip curled into a slight smirk at the woman’s inquiry. Reaching into the pocket of her cardigan she supplied a pack of cigarettes, removing one and placing it between her bloody lips before flicking the edge of her pinky nail with her thumb, providing a small flame. 

A witch. Of course.

But before Michael could cast his assumptions and release the rage boiling in his chest, the rage against her kind, the woman took a long drag and held the cigarette between relaxed fingers. She spoke in a sultry, slightly hoarse tone.  
“Who’s our guest, Nana?” 

Madelyn stood slowly and placed her hands over Michael’s shoulders, gripping slightly in... fear? Anger? He couldn’t tell.  
“This, is Michael, our savior sent from the Dark Lord himself to return us to the eternal Hellfire. And YOU will NOT lay a finger on him with any of your disgusting magic!” She spat angrily, pointing a finger in the girl’s direction, the other hand clamping even harder on Michael’s shoulder.  
Michael’s eyes flicked over the girl’s figure, his face twitching with an anger that far surpassed that of Madelyn’s. But the second his eyes rested on hers, and their gaze melded together, a wash of energy flew over the both of them.

Lights began flickering in an electrical buzz, gusts of still wind blew around the three of them standing in the dining room, Michael’s eyes rolling as his head spun and ears rang. The girl felt it too; attempting to catch her shaking form in the archway, air stolen from her lungs and knees slamming into the wood floors. 

Michael’s hands gripped his temples as visions flooded through his mind. Visions of red, darkness enveloped over his naked form as he stood across the girl, also laid bare and wrapped in a red glow. Their eyes met - and both sets grew dark. 

The phenomenon fled as soon as it came, and both Michael and the girl were gasping for breath as the sensations fled their bodies. Madelyn planted herself against the wall adjacent to Michael, shaking herself with fear of what has happened before her. 

Panting, the girl lifted her head, wide eyes searching for an answer. Michael had already had his stare set on her, and once their eyes met for the second (third?) time, everything became clear. For both of them. Tense faces relaxed, trembling muscles ceased to vibrate against anxious bones, and gravity had once again asserted itself. 

“You’re-...” The girl croaked, relief not quite reaching her voice yet. Her ebony nails dug into the wood of the archway. Words failed her but Michael filled the void. 

“The one you’ve been waiting for.”


	2. Prophetic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I noticed a lot do run ons and repetition in the last chapter, so I did my best to avoid it in this one. Enjoy!

“What was that?”

Madelyn broke the stifling silence in the room. Her trembling hands removed themselves from the wall, as if that would have grounded her, and provide any sort of protection from... whatever that was. No one responded. Michael and the girl remained in awe, eyes locked, never changing. It broke once the girl reached for the cigarette that fell to her feet and took a drag. The menthol and tobacco taste reminded her she was still there. Still breathing. Barely.

“I said what was THAT?” Madelyn growled, vaulting herself off the wall and to the ground where the girl remained. She grabbed her face with one hand, forced the other to her throat as she spat in the girl’s face, “What the FUCK did I tell you, Lilith?! Don’t TOUCH him with your filthy, tainted MAGIC!” Lilith gasped, far too weak (and, albeit, shocked) to fight back or push Madelyn off her. 

Michael sprung from his seat and gripped Madelyn’s shoulders. Not too firm, but enough to pry the old woman away.

“Hey, HEY! It wasn’t her fault!” 

Madelyn’s eyes grew wide as her antichrist spoke and pulled her away, reaching a hand back and gripping his forearm to gain some sort of grounding in her rage-fueled fit. Lilith held her throat and coughed as her body folded over. 

“I don’t-... I don’t understand... Michael what is this?” Madelyn pleaded for answers; but neither occupants in the room were able to provide them.

-

Lilith could feel Michael’s eyes burning holes into her, as if they were looking straight into her soul, forcing it bare before him so he could truly see. But she couldn’t bear to exchange glances or allow him of that. Instead, she held another cigarette in her hand and stared at the empty space on the table before her, curled up in the dining chair to the right of Michael. Somehow Michael managed to keep Madelyn at bay long enough for Lilith to go upstairs and clean herself off, and long enough for him to attempt an evaluation of the experience they’d both encountered.

He knew this... message, was prophetic, but as far as the meaning went he had no idea. He could hardly wrap his head around the next stage to his rise in power as the antichrist. And now, in his lowest point, he comes across this strange woman with a strange... granddaughter? Were they truly related? Madelyn never mentioned Lilith, but he supposed she never had much reason to, considering the oh-so-warm welcome she’d given her upon her arrival. How was a witch supposed to give way into his plans? None of this made sense. 

Madelyn emerged from the kitchen with another bowl of stew and a cutting board with a half loaf of bread, placing them in front of the mystery girl before retrieving the dishes before Michael and disappearing again. All without speaking a single word, which, spoke volumes. Lilith didn’t even spare a glance to the food set before her. Instead, she took another long drag and sent the burned ashes flying with a flick of her finger.

“Why were you covered in blood?”

Michael was the first to speak, and somehow figured this was the best way to engage in conversation. He could hardly understand the prior phenomenon himself, how could he ask her for any sort of clarification? 

Lilith’s long lashes fluttered a bit before she turned her hazel eyes to him, arms lazily wrapped around her knees, cigarette burning in one hand. Her face was cold; it actually sent goosebumps over Michael’s skin.

“Gotta make a living somehow.” She half-laughed, some unknown irony laced in her voice. “Why are you here? Who are you?” 

“Straight to the chase, hm?”

“Well it’s not every day I meet a stranger and suddenly tap into their conscience, much less, them into mine.” Is that what it was? She waved a hand and brought the ashtray sliding to her side, crushing the cigarette into a butt. This was Michael’s reminder of who she was. As if he could just forget.

“What is a witch doing here? Shouldn’t you be with the rest of your kind?” Michael’s voice grew much more harsh with each word, hands clenching in fists strewn across the table until his knuckles grew white. 

“You mean those talentless, boarding school bitches at Robichaux’s? Please. Cordelia tried forcing me in but I clawed my way out the first chance I got. And now...” She ran a hand through her damp hair with a deep sigh, “Here I am.” 

Michael’s grip loosened and his muscles relaxed. It seemed as if she hated her ‘sisters’ as much as he did. Still... there was no denying her power. The same power that brought an end to his Ms. Mead. Tension crept its way to his muscles once again. 

“And how exactly did you end up here?” 

Lilith felt the angst in his voice this time, much more than she’d heard it previously. He obviously had a vendetta against her ‘kind’. She reached forward and snagged a slice of bread, broke a piece off, and dipped it into the stew’s broth. “Madelyn found me begging outside the black church. Gave me food, water, blankets. Probably thought I wouldn’t mug her if she did. And when she found out about my powers, she thought they were a gift from the Dark Lord himself. Let me stay with her.” She popped the garnished piece of bread into her mouth, “But, after she found out they weren’t, well... she didn’t have the heart to cast me out again. Ironic.” 

Michael swallowed the lump in his throat. He had no reason to despise her; it was obvious she desired to stray from Cordelia’s path, and she was no stranger to hardship. Her aura was... different. Michael felt himself connected to her, somehow, but it was much harder to read her. Could that be what the vision meant? They were... connected? Lilith remained a mystery.

Lilith...

Lilith.

“Do you know what your name means?” Michael asked, half curious and half on the brink of discovery. It was a long shot but until now he’d merely been grasping at straws. 

Her motions stopped; spoon rigid in her grasp and mouth suddenly dry despite the warm meal inside. She swallowed, hard, and shifted toward him. “I-... I think so.” Her knees dropped and feet planted on the wood floors, back aligned as she leaned into the table. “Madelyn told me that Lilith was the original wife of Adam. She was supposed to submit to him, but... rebelled. Defied him. God sent his wraith of angels against her and she prevailed, but only in doing so by bringing death.” She glanced up to Michael toward the end of her explanation, his eyes piercing into her very core. She forced her gaze away. “But... a name’s a name, right? I-I mean, I’m not the only one with it. It’s not that special.” 

“No... but you’re the only true to the name.” 

With this, her eyes flicked back to his, a tingling sensation washing over her much like before, only not as strong. She could swear she saw a spark of... something, light in his eye. And it was then that the air stilled once more and the lights wavered, yet with a softer buzz of energy encapsulating the pair. She felt it. He did, too. Whatever ‘it’ was... it was a connection they shared. It... was real.

“It seems I’m not the only one destined for this path.”


	3. Clarity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hello I wanted to get this chapter done asap because I have a lot to get done over the next few days, so I was writing this as I was watching the episode this takes place in and I didn’t even think about establishing the fact that they’re interrupting a service lol whoops. But hopefully that doesn’t take away too much of the chapter. Thank you for reading and I’ll update as soon as I can! <3

It was just a theory, really, that Lilith was meant to play a part in Michael’s plans. There was no denying their conscientious connection - the visions and the energy that vibrated between the two of them proved that much. Only now they needed a stronger foundation of truth. Stronger than “Your name is Lilith so you must have been sent to me to destroy humanity by my side”. The irony was not lost on Michael with this. 

Madelyn’s solution was to present the pair before the black church, laid before the altar and surrounded by faithful believers. It made sense considering this was her place of clarity; a place where she found the answers she’d been lacking in the past. If it meant gaining a step closer to their own clarity, well, Lilith and Michael could hardly refuse. 

‘O Fortuna’ bounced off the high ceilings of the church’s sanctuary with a rumbling vigor as the trio made their way to the altar. The All-Sinners choir‘s perfect harmony of the chaotic tune sent Lilith’s bones rattling, tension rising in her spine and traveling directly to her already aching joints. A shuddering exhale of breath emitted from her core in an effort to alleviate the anxiety that plagued her. Michael felt this, somehow, as if this perturbed energy was bleeding into him while she followed close behind. It did no favors to his existing trepidation. 

“Wait!” Madelyn rushed into the sanctuary, Lilith and Michael cautiously in tow, “This honor belongs to someone else.” 

“Someone else?” 

“This is Michael,” the cloaked woman motioned behind her, “He’s... new here.” The congregation began murmuring amongst themselves, but Lilith swore she could still hear Michael swallow the lump in his throat beside her. 

“Well, even if he’s willing to sell his soul why should he go before-...”

“Michael doesn’t need to sell his soul.” Madelyn scurried to the front of the sanctuary before the black priestess and bound sacrifices brought to their knees, her voice leaning into that of declaration. Suddenly all eyes were on Michael. He took this as his cue to step forward, slowly gliding through the pews as Lilith trailed behind him, whispers following the two within earshot. 

“The end times... are upon us.” Madelyn assured as Michael halted before the altar, lifting a patch of curled hair above his right ear to reveal a trio of sixes over raised skin, “Behold!” 

A sudden crash of thunder erupted from outside and lights within the room flared dramatically. Lilith took a step back, her already trembling frame nearly collapsing with all breath stolen from her lungs. 

“The mark of the beast!” Another ripple of mumbling and gasps filled the room, “Is it possible that... you’re the one?” the priestess inquired with a faltering tone of timidity. 

“I am.” 

The words spoken so low from Michael’s throat settled deep inside Lilith’s chest, reverberating there as the black mass bellowed a round of “Hail Satan!”’s. The priestess retrieved a blade from a larger man knelt behind her - presumably the one who was initially supposed to take the lives of the quivering man and woman bound to the altar - and presented it before Michael. There was a beat, then when he outstretched his hand to claim the weapon he felt the returning ardor surround him, prompting him to turn to the girl behind him. Lilith’s once quivering muscles subsided the second Michael’s eyes locked on hers - and both sets rolled into complete darkness like their shared vision conveyed. Lilith felt an immediate sense of ease take over as a familiar aura enclosed the space, and without a word strode to Michael’s side, as if the silence had demanded her to do so. Her conscience had shut off completely, and an instinct she didn’t know she possessed had taken over. The choir’s melody arose once more to initiate the ritual. 

Before Madelyn or the priestess could protest Michael simply raised a hand, the grim facade that settled over his features silencing them before they could click their tongues. With the same hand he turned to offer it to Lilith, who rested her palm over his with only a moment’s hesitation, and escorted her behind the petrified offerings knelt before the church. 

Michael was the first to perform. He slid a hand behind the blindfolded woman’s head and took a hold of her hair, eliciting a terrified squeal from his victim. With one fluid motion he raised the blade and drug it effortlessly across her throat, a spew of crimson falling from the fresh wound as he passed the dagger to Lilith. She took it, of course, and with no delay slashed the man’s neck in the same poetic fashion. Lifeless bodies collapsed as praises to the Dark Lord manifested among the congregation; Lilith and Michael each turned to meet each other’s gaze. 

Certainty had declared itself eminent.


	4. Rooted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delayed update! I actually had an unexpected trip out of state, but I’m glad to finally be back and update this fic. This chapter was (for some reason) hard for me to write because I wanted to make it as descriptive as possible without being too wordy. Hopefully I conveyed that but, hey, I’m kinda happy with how it turned out so hopefully you guys are too! Thanks for reading! Also, you can find me on Tumblr as lemonwhiskers as well if you ever feel the need to reach out! I’m always looking to improve my writing and it means so much to hear back from you all. :-)

“Quit being so stupid, Lily! Get off!” the high pitched voice of a young boy carried through the autumn wind across the playground, catching many adolescent ears and piquing the interest of the other playground goers. Lilith, seated on the edge of a seesaw with her tiny white knuckles gripping its frame, didn’t budge, despite the boy’s fervent pushing on her petite back. “I said get off! That’s MY seat!”

“N-No!” Lilith’s quivering voice barely forced out the plea through her clenched throat. All muscle power in her body was focused on keeping her grounded to the seat below. “It-,” another shove, “It’s m-my TURN!” Truly, she had waited till the toy was vacant for some time before taking action. She had no intention of asking the other kids if she could join, because she knew all she would receive were harsh words and childish tongues blowing raspberries in her direction. If the seesaw was empty, she could play by herself. Something she didn’t mind in the slightest. 

However, the boy sending repetitive blows to her spine wasn’t having it.

The boy’s aggression only grew at Lilith’s pitiful attempt of standing up for herself. To him, and much to all the other children now surrounding the scene, she was weak. A weak, frail little girl with no ability to defend herself. She was prey, and he a predator. With a loud, aggravated grunt the boy raised his small fist and planted it astonishingly hard against the back of Lilith’s skull, sending her forward to her knees against the course dirt alongside the now empty playground equipment. The boy laughed in triumph and the swarm of children around them joined in his victory. They continued the assault with kicking and shoving at Lilith’s tender skin in an attempt to remove her from their posse. They’d succeeded, of course, because Lilith had no strength nor wish to fight back. Instead she collapsed some feet away from the hoard and simply held herself with slender arms wrapped around her bruised, bleeding knees. Stinging tears flowed heavily down her dirty cheeks and muddy shadows surrounded her busted lip and leaking nose as hacking sobs heaved out of her chest. She felt defeated. Completely, and utterly broken. Alone. 

The echoing cheers of the children who had just sent her (quite literally) lying the in the dirt reverberated against her throbbing cranium, deepening the pit in her stomach and threatening the bile already rising in her throat. It wasn’t fair. She’d been so patient, courteous even, to finally enjoy what little happiness she could provide herself at the park before the smelly child had approached her with such rude intentions. She did nothing to provoke the behavior and certainly didn’t deserve the fate she’d been handed. But here she was; crying violently and shaking like a leaf as those awful children enjoyed the fruits of her labor. 

It wasn’t fair.

In the midst of her sniveling fit she began to hear whispers, voices so far away that she could hardly understand the words they’d carried. She tightened her brow and held her scraped up palms to either side of her head to calm the rising voices ringing in her ears. They soon became louder, clearer, but the message was something her adolescent mind couldn’t comprehend. The grip around her ears tightened and her limbs reeled in to keep herself as balled up as possible in an attempt to control the unfamiliar emotion that bubbled in her core. The voices were relentless; and after the building tension inside her reached its breaking point all the strain on her body rolled off in waves as an unknown force took over her movements. Lilith unraveled and shakily stood where she once laid defeated, eyes pining at the display of happy children playing on the toy that was so rightfully hers. At the top of the seesaw sat the boy relishing in his achievement, gleaming like a king atop his throne. This sight alone was enough to send the anger and rage buried deep inside to run rampant as every nerve became alight with fire and her fingers twitched at her sides. An unexplored sense of vengeance danced inside her mind, likely pushed to the forefront by the everlasting voices ascending with urgency there. Her twinging digits became restless; as if some kind of foreign energy lingered over her fingertips. The voices prompted her to test the waiting force and as she kept her eyes burned into the boy’s skull, she clenched her tiny fist, and simultaneously the boy’s body collapsed to the ground below. 

The boy began to seize over the very dirt he’d forced Lilith to lie. Blood leaked from his eye sockets and dribbled out of his nose as his body became much more violent, limbs flying and jerking every which way. Lilith wished she could feel sorry for him as the children screamed in complete horror, as a swarm of adults rushed to the dying boy’s side in a matched panic, as hysterical sobs and cries from the boys parents emerged loudly in the still, autumn air.

But for once... she didn’t. 

-

“Leave the kid alone!” Madelyn’s shrill voice yanked Lilith back into reality, turning her head from the window before her to find a plethora of church-goers surrounding Madelyn and Michael. Michael had an array of food before him; and Lilith deduced the satanic hounds were begging him to feed into their egos by declaring their dish the best. A smirk threatened the corners of her mouth as people deserted the table with their heads hung in shame. 

Lilith turned to the window once again as Madelyn and Michael’s conversation soon became white noise in the background. She flicked the cigarette burning in her hand, extinguishing it into the window sill once the ash had reached the filter. The burning sensation it provided to her fingertips brought some feeling to her numbed skin. She retrieved another out of the pack lying next to a pile of remains from the sticks she’d smoked before. The only window in the basement-clad reception room of the church provided solace in her goal of escaping the events that occurred just hours before, even if the view was a filthy alley way scattered with litter. Lilith needed time to... process. To think about what had just happened, what had taken over her in the sanctuary to participate in the ritual. Of course she was no stranger to murder; she’d made a living out of it. But for her to give in so blindly to an instinct she was certain she hadn’t experienced before was unsettling. She had reflected on a similar situation that happened during her childhood, but deemed the event completely unrelated. 

‘I was a kid,’ she thought, ‘I didn’t know what was happening. It couldn’t have been me.’ For years already she’d convinced herself it was nothing more than a random tragedy she happened to be present for. Surely she played no part in the boy’s death. Though, admittedly, she felt odd for having to reassure herself of this now. 

“Hey,” A sudden voice in Lilith’s left ear jolted her from her thoughts yet again, only this time it belonged to a decrepit man with a wrinkled scowl, “You can’t smoke in here, kid.” 

Lilith scoffed in distaste to the man’s rudeness, lifting the cigarette to her mouth in defiance before the man quickly plucked it from her plump lips. Lilith’s brows furrowed and just as she opened her mouth to spew venom into the man’s face, a hand rested gently over her shoulder, forcing her to turn to its owner. Michael stood beside her with a stern expression aimed at the elder who’d deprived Lilith of her vice. The man’s face contorted awkwardly for a moment before settling into that if embarrassment, then reluctantly handed the cigarette back to Lilith, shuffling away from his displeased idol. Lilith’s eyes went back to Michael after watching the scene play out before her to find his demeanor shifted to one of comfort; the small smile that played over his lips told her, ‘I’ve got you.’

“Thanks,” She murmured as she raised her hand to the end of the stick resting once again between her lips, but Michael was already a step ahead, quickly flicking the end of his pinky with his index to provide a flame. Just like she’d done before. And as Michael’s gentle smile turned into a smug grin, this time she couldn’t help but smirk as she puffed the ignited cigarette over his hand. 

Michael repositioned himself to the place where the man had stood, crossing his hands behind his back so elegantly as he himself took his gaze to the window before them. There was a silence that fell over the space, spare the gentle exhale of smoke coming from Lilith, though it didn’t bring any discomfort with it. Lilith took this time to configure an opening into a conversation over what had occurred between her and Michael in the sanctuary, hoping that despite his own yearning for answers, he might have some insight on it all. 

Again, Michael was a step ahead. 

“How are you feeling?”

The question perplexed Lilith, and she had to fight the instinctive response that she was ‘fine’. Something told her Michael would have known better if she’d have said such a thing. 

“I feel... strange. I don’t know what happened. It’s-,” She searched for the right word, brows furrowing, “Cloudy. Blurred.” 

Michael hummed in response, but provided no clarity to her confusion. Her eyes flicked over him for a moment before returning to the window. 

“You don’t know what that was?” Michael spoke after another beat of stillness, voice laced with... mockery? Curiosity? Lilith couldn’t tell. 

“I-... No, I don’t.”

“But you’ve felt it before, haven’t you?” With this Michael turned his head toward her, eyes slightly squinted as he awaited an answer. Lilith’s own eyes went wide and all vocabulary vanished; If she didn’t know better, she could have sworn he knew something she didn’t. Or perhaps something she didn’t want him to know. Maybe both.

“What makes you say that?” she managed to choke, saving herself by taking a long drag from her cigarette.

“You have something in you that I haven’t found in others. Something... familiar. And I can tell you’ve had this ‘something’ in you for a very long time.” The words rolled off his tongue so smoothly, as if his voice was entwined with velvet. The moment they reached Lilith’s ears she felt an overwhelming sense of trepidation; something that Michael could see. He leaned over her in a way she couldn’t confirm was an act of comfort or not.   
“Everyone has a darkness inside of them. An evil embedded in their souls. Yours... consumes it. You only have yet to see it like I do now, Lilith.” This only welcomed more questions into her already drowning mind; Had Michael experienced something different during the ritual? 

Lilith couldn’t control the scared confusion that made itself evident over her features. Fear wasn’t something she’d normally allow herself to feel, yet, something about being ‘destined’ for the unknown made her bones rattle. She forced the closest available question from her overflowing list out as quickly as possible. 

“And what about them?” she motioned to the room of satanists quietly chatting amongst themselves, utterly oblivious to Lilith and Michael’s conversation. She noticed Madelyn wasn’t among the crowd. 

Michael scoffed, shaking his head without even sparing a glance to his following. “These people merely think they’re doing my father’s work, but they can’t see what you and I do. They think small acts of rudeness and treachery are all in service to our cause. When, really, they mean nothing. They don’t have what you and I possess.” 

“And what is that?”

“Why don’t you ask that little boy you sent into an aneurism after he defiled you?”

Lilith nearly choked from the smoke leaving her lungs and dropped the cigarette with a limp hand, the rest of her turning to liquid, and she felt as if gravity had betrayed her. If it wasn’t for the wall she quickly latched on to she surely would have crumpled. 

There was no way he knew.

“H-... How do you...?” She desperately searched for an answer in him with doe eyes, ears filled with the amplified sound of blood rushing through her veins as all breath had been stolen from her lungs. To say she was utterly dumbfounded would be an understatement. 

Michael’s stoic yet inexplicably reassuring demeanor made her knees even weaker, the same velvety tone melting her very core as ocean eyes offered an unexpected amenity with each word that reached her ears. “I told you who I was, Lilith. And we can find out who you are as well. It’s up to you whether you choose to finally accept it or not.”


End file.
